Camp-Fire and Cotton-Field eBook

The ravages of the guerrillas on that occasion were
not extensive. They carried off a few bolts of
cloth and some smaller articles, after drinking the
whisky I had set out for their entertainment.
The negroes had carefully concealed the balance of
the goods in places where a white man would have much
trouble in finding them. In the garden there
was a row of bee-hives, whose occupants manifested
much dislike for all white men, irrespective of their
political sentiments. Two unused hives were filled
with the most valuable articles on our invoice, and
placed at the ends of this row. In a clump of
weeds under the bench on which the hives stood, the
negroes secreted several rolls of cloth and a quantity
of shoes. More shoes and more cloth were concealed
in a hen-house, under a series of nests where several
innocent hens were “sitting.” Crockery
was placed among the rose-bushes and tomato-vines
in the garden; barrels of sugar were piled with empty
barrels of great age; and two barrels of molasses
had been neatly buried in a freshly-ploughed potato-field.
Obscure corners in stables and sheds were turned into
hiding-places, and the cunning of the negro was well
evinced by the successful concealment of many bulky
articles.

It was about two o’clock in the afternoon when
I arrived at the plantation. I immediately recommenced
the issue of goods, which was suspended so hastily
three days before. From two o’clock until
dark the overseer and myself were busily engaged,
and distributed about two-thirds of our remaining
stock. Night came. We suspended the distribution
and indulged in supper. After giving the overseer
directions for the morrow, I recollected an invitation
to spend the night at the house of a friend, three
miles away, on the road to Natchez.

I ordered my horse, and in a few moments the animal
was ready, at the door. I told the overseer where
I was going, and bade him good-night.

“Where are you going, Mr. K——?”
said the negro who had brought out the horse, as he
delivered the bridle into my hands.

“If any one calls to see me,” said I,
“you can say I have gone to Natchez.”

With that I touched a spur to my horse and darted
off rapidly toward my friend’s house. A
half-dozen negroes had gathered to assist in saddling
and holding the horse. As I sprang into the saddle
I heard one of them say:

“I don’t see why Mr. K——­
starts off to Natchez at this time of night.”

Another negro explained the matter, but I did not
hear the explanation. If he gave a satisfactory
reason, I think he did better than I could have done.

Immediately after my departure the overseer went to
bed. He had been in bed about fifteen minutes
when he heard a trampling of horses’ feet around
the house. A moment later there was a loud call
for the door to be opened. Before the overseer
could comply with the request, the door was broken
in. A dozen men crowded into the house, demanding
that a light be struck instantly. As the match
gave its first flash of light, one of the visitors
said: